Shattered
by Speaker63
Summary: House loves Wilson, but Wilson only sees House as a best friend. But will the events of the bus crash and the rush to save Amber effect their friendship? Spoilers for the last episodes of season 4.
1. Prologue: The Answer

**NOTE: **This prologue takes place in the episode "House's Head" while House is on a bus with his team, Cuddy, and Wilson in figuring out who was really dying. I know the arrangement looks weird, but it's only for the prologue and I thought it would be cool. And to help you out, I'll let you know who is who: The **bold** font to the left is "The Answer"; the brunette woman in black he was talking to throughout the episode. The words in _italics_ are House's own thoughts and are in the center. And the regular font with the quotes in the center is House speaking. If you're still confused let me know and I'll try to clear it up!

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**Shattered**

**Prologue: The Answer**

**You believe in reason above all else-  
****There must be a reason.**

"You've got something to tell me."

**Yes. Who am I?**

"That's asking not telling.  
Who are you?"

**You know who I am.**

"If I did, I'd be passed out in bed  
Instead of OD'ing on physostigmine  
On the 6th Street cross-town."

**What's my necklace made of?**

_Who the hell cares?  
_  
"Resin."

**Who am I?**

_If I knew, I'd tell you.  
_  
"I don't know.  
Why the guessing game?"

**Because you don't know the answer.**

"And if I don't, you don't.  
But you know the clues."

**I know what's bugging your subconscious.  
****What's my necklace made of?**

_The necklace again…?  
__Wait- it can't be…  
_  
"No."

_No. __**NO!**__ Why her?  
__Of all people…_

**Who am I?**

_Please, anyone else…  
__Don't do this to him…  
__He was happy!  
_  
"It doesn't make sense."  
_  
He's my best friend;  
__I __**love**__ him.  
__Don't hurt him… __**Please**__._

**What's my necklace made of?**

_Don't say it.  
_"… Amber."

As soon as the name passed his lips, the brunette's face faded into a bright light. And before he knew it, House was face to face with the woman that he had so envied ever since he found out that Wilson had loved her- the woman that was exactly like him and got to his best friend before House got the chance to express his feelings. He loved Wilson more than anyone else, yet House couldn't have him. That made him bitter toward the 'Cut Throat Bitch' ever since he found out they were dating. But once he realized how happy Wilson was with her- especially after all of his failed marriages before- House began to accept her. Yet there she was on the bus with _him_- of all people- after he realized that she was the one dying.

"Amber…"

Amber looked at him with a calm smile upon her features, unaware of the fate that was in store for her in only mere seconds. And House was staring back at her, his eyes wide and full of dread. _She can't… that's impossible. This can't be happening. He's been through enough…_ Even though it was a mere flashback, House was still shaking in his seat. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the young woman before him- even when the blinding headlights of the garbage truck came closer and closer until they crashed into the side of the bus and right into Amber's back.


	2. Chapter 1: Electricity

**Chapter 1: Electricity**

"Her heart won't stop racing," the doctor told House and Wilson at the hospital that Amber had been staying in. "We don't know what's causing it."

House seemed to be the only one really paying attention, though; he watched as Wilson stood by Amber's side, stroking her soft blond hair gently with a trembling hand. The look on his face was a heartbreaking mix of confusion and sadness as he stared down at the injuries of his unconscious girlfriend. The whole while House had been watching him, fighting back the feeling of jealousy that was creeping through him. _If I had been there would he be as worried…?_ House thought.

"You sure it wasn't the _bus_ that landed on her?" House asked, flipping over a page of Amber's file while still watching his friend.

"It's not trauma. She was stable post-op. This didn't start until an hour ago."

Wilson wasn't listening to either of them. He was still in disbelief; it was Amber lying on that bed- _Amber_. His Amber. And it was still a mystery as to why she was on the bus with House. But the shock of seeing the woman he loved lying unconscious in that hospital bed and hooked up to all of the machines keeping her alive was so overwhelming. "My God," he whispered in a trembling tone.

"Delayed reaction to the trauma," House said, not having heard Wilson's whisper as he kept looking over the file, "She lost both of her kidneys in the bus crash, ripped up her femoral artery."

"We fixed the artery, got her on dialysis for the kidneys," the doctor corrected, "Whatever's doing this to her heart, it isn't from the crash."

House glanced up at Wilson once more. But he was far away from the hospital at that point. It was only making him feel more envious; Wilson wasn't that concerned when House had been taken to Princeton-Plainsboro. Then again, he wasn't laying unconscious in a hospital bed with a rapid heart beat and failing kidneys. However he did have a concussion and collapsed while trying to remember what happened on the bus. Was Wilson there when he woke up? No- just an annoying old hag of a nurse and a security guard in his own home. "Check her potassium?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you call me?" Wilson asked suddenly.

The doctor looked at Wilson, almost looking shocked at the question. "She's been under the whole time. She had no ID."

"Pushed adenosine?" House kept asking, forcing himself to try and focus more on the medical subject than on Wilson for now.

"And verapamil. And floated a Swan an hour ago."

But he couldn't help but watch Wilson. Any jealous thoughts were pushed aside when he saw the oncologist so distraught and confused. All House wanted to do was just hold him and tell him everything was going to be all right- give him _some_ sort of comfort. But he knew that would never happen; his ego would get in the way and he would just end up saying something stupid and piss him off. So he left Wilson alone once again. "Coronary angiography?"

"Three critical patients are ahead of her. We'll have her in within the hour."

_That's not good enough,_ House thought as he glanced around. "We're fifteen minutes away from Princeton-Plainsboro by ambulance."

The man looked at House in disbelief. "You want to _move _her? Her heart rate is one thirty!"

"She's hemodynamically stable. We're moving her."

"You're not her doctor, you can't make this decision."

_No, but I can make it happen…_ House thought as he looked at the doctor. Then his gaze lowered, the idea hitting him instantly. His head turned toward Wilson only slightly, his gaze on Amber. "Her husband can." _Don't mess this up, Wilson._

Wilson stood still, looking up from Amber. Sometimes House was a genius; both of them knew it would be better if she were in Princeton-Plainsboro. They could do whatever they felt was necessary instead of leaving her in the hands of strangers, even though they knew what they were doing. House's gaze shifted to his friend, waiting for his answer as he stood there. Calling Amber his wife was a rushed decision; he just hoped his tone wasn't bitter when he said it.

"Right?" House asked Wilson, still holding back the bitter jealousy that threatened to come out in his voice.

Finally, Wilson turned toward the other two doctors. "Move her."

Reluctantly, the doctor nodded and got Amber moved into the ambulance with only House and Wilson in the back to check on her. It was better that way; it would give them time to think of what they could do to help Amber once they got to the hospital. House helped Amber's breathing by pumping air into her lungs and Wilson just sat silently in thought until the MD spoke up. "If the trauma didn't damage her heart-"

"Why was she on the bus?" Wilson asked bluntly.

House looked up at him. "I don't know." He wasn't lying; the concussion he had received in the crash made him forget. Yet from the way he replied, he had a feeling that Wilson was debating on whether he could believe House or not. And that didn't help the situation in any way, so House continued, "If she had any underlying condition, the accident could have exacerbated it."

"Why were you _with_ her?"

"I don't know!" House snapped. He was getting tired of this. "I'm not hiding anything, I just don't remember." Then in a calmer voice, he asked, "What else could damage her heart?"

The sound of trembling breathing turned his attention back to Wilson. The oncologist pressed his thumb against his closed eyelids, trying to fight back tears that threatened to fall. The sight nearly got to House, but he couldn't allow that now. They needed to help Amber; crying about it wasn't going to do that. Right now he needed Wilson to bounce ideas off of since he couldn't get any proper ones on his own in his current condition. Seeing him so vulnerable and sad wasn't helping House's thought process in the slightest. "Wilson!" House cried, "Don't get lost. I'm barely coherent. I need your help right now."

Suddenly, Amber's heart monitor started beeping. Both of the doctors' eyes widened before House called, "V-fib." Quickly, the two worked to get the heart paddles prepared and get Amber's heart going again. But while House was setting it up, Wilson just looked on and muttered, "Okay, okay…" However his mind was telling him it was a bad idea.

"Charging," House announced, lowering the paddles toward Amber's chest. "Clear!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" House froze and looked at Wilson, about ready to snap at him again. But Wilson beat him to the first word. "Protective hypothermia."

Still, that didn't seem to make House feel any better. "You want to freeze her? Her heart's not beating."

"Her heart's already damaged. You restart it, it'll keep racing, shoot off free radicals and kill her brain." House's gaze lowered to Amber as Wilson continued, "We ice her down, put her on bypass until you've diagnosed her."

_That's not going to do anything for her Wilson and you know it._ "This is not a solution. All you're doing is pressing pause."

"It gives you more time to find the diagnosis." Wilson paused, attempting to keep his voice level. But when he spoke again, it quivered. "House. This is _Amber._"

_If it were me, would you have done the same thing?_ He really wanted to ask. But now wasn't the time; House needed to help Amber. She needed to stay alive and do what House couldn't do for Wilson. If she died… House wasn't going to let himself think of that case scenario. Once again, he looked down at Amber, trying to decide what they should do.

"_Please_," Wilson pleaded.

That seemed to be enough to win the crippled MD over. He nodded toward Wilson's right. "Cold saline solution." Once again, the two quickly worked to try and cool Amber down. House knew it wasn't a good solution; keeping Amber shut down was only going to kill her. Yet if they did as Wilson said, there was the risk of damaging her brain. But that wasn't the only reason House gave in. If he didn't, he knew he would lose Wilson as a friend and that thought alone shook him to his core. He didn't want to lose his best- if only- friend; he needed Wilson and he needed to help Amber stay alive in order to keep him. So for now, they would freeze her regardless of the possible consequences.

When they had arrived at the hospital, House, Wilson and the team watched through a glass window as Chase and a few nurses worked on getting Amber stable. The room was dead silent, everyone shocked that they were going to try and save the life of someone they all knew. House stood by Wilson, glancing over at him to see that his expression was blank. That longing to bring him comfort was coming back, but House stood still.

Finally, Chase turned to them and nodded, moving to leave the machines to do their work for Amber. "Why are we doing this?" Foreman asked suddenly, looking over at his boss.

_Because if we don't, we're not just going to be losing Amber,_ House thought before replying out loud, "Bought us time to think." And with that, he turned toward Wilson, looking at him once more. _I'm sorry_, he thought before moving to limp out of the room. Not soon after, his team followed suit, Foreman and Taub stopping by Wilson to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Wilson didn't even acknowledge them as he stared blankly at Amber through the glass.

_It's going to be okay_, he tried to reassure himself, _House knows what he's doing…_

--------------------

"It could be anything," Thirteen said, trying to avoid letting the tremble of her voice out.

"Great, let's explore that!" House snapped, glaring back at her. "Quick, get her on panacea."

"We can narrow it down by looking for arterial blockages," Kutner suggested.

"How?" Foreman asked, his brow furrowed, "On an echo? Can't see wall motion where there's no motion." As he listed off and took away their options, House lifted a hand to rub at his closed eyelids. He knew freezing Amber wasn't a good idea- it gave them no way of examining her heart to find the source of the problem. But they couldn't go behind Wilson's wishes- well, House couldn't. They needed the time to think- freezing Amber gave them that time, but with limited options. Hearing Foreman speak was making House only get more irritated; he knew he was being an idiot- he didn't need someone else to remind him.

"Yeah, we get it. Her heart's not beating," House snapped again, "It's gonna make it harder to diagnose. On the other hand, she's not gonna die while you're whining about it. What else?"

"There is another way to narrow it down," Kutner started, "If you really did see a symptom in Amber before the crash, physostigmine helped your memory last time."

"Why not cyanide?" Taub suggested sarcastically. "He's a mess, he needs to sleep."

House sighed. "I had a heart attack this morning. I can't do any more drugs 'till lunch." He looked at Foreman. "Get her an angiogram. It could she damage even in a stopped heart." Once again, his attention turned to the team. "The rest of you, search her apartment. Toxins, heavy metals, drugs… Anything that might make her heart race."

The team moved out without a word- all except Taub, anyway. House limped around him and headed into his office, the former plastic surgeon following behind. _I don't need a lecture,_ House thought, moving to sit down in his chair.

"I need to know if there's anything medically relevant that you couldn't share publicly," Taub said, standing in front of House's desk with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.

Leaning back in his chair, House looked around the shorter doctor and then said, "Is this a Philanderers Anonymous intervention?"

"You were obviously drinking last night. Maybe you took Amber to a bar?"

"I left here on my motorcycle. Alone."

"You ended up drunk on a bus. Together." House's brow furrowed. _You are not seriously suggesting this…_ Taub added, "Maybe you met Amber in the bar?"

"I was not having an affair with her." _I couldn't do that to Wilson. _And to dismiss Taub, House turned toward his drawer and started shuffling for nothing through it.

"You can't really say that if you don't remember."

Finally, House found a random file and flipped it open. Of all the ones he could have grabbed, it was Amber's. "I lost four hours, not four months."

"Maybe it was the first time." He looked up from the file, staring as Taub kept drilling him about the nonexistent issue. "If you drank together, any chance you did any drugs?"

_I… don't know._ House's gaze lowered. He wouldn't do that to Wilson; if he had an affair with Amber, it would mean the end of their friendship. And that was something House definitely didn't want; he loved Wilson. He could never bring himself to hurt him. Yet the more Taub had asked those questions, the more that it was a possibility. Whether House wanted to or not, it had to be considered.

"I'll run a tox screen," Taub said before moving to walk out of the office, leaving House alone to wonder over the new possible idea.

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He was in his office for most of the day, staring at his whiteboard. After a long time of consideration, he finally wrote at the bottom of the list, "Drugs?" _It's only an idea,_ he thought, pushing off from the floor and sliding backwards to get a better view of the list. _Of all the possibilities… an affair. _House shook his head slightly, but that only helped trigger another headache. Closing his eyes, he reached a hand up and rubbed at his temples.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked from his office doorway.

House looked up and froze, seeing Amber standing there without a scratch on her. _Great, I'm hallucinating,_ he thought immediately. "Can't really say "yes" when it's a hallucination is asking."

"Don't worry, you're just dreaming."

House nodded slightly. That was better- at least it showed he wasn't losing his mind. "What symptom did I see in you?" He paused. "A myoclonic jerk-"

"Boring." Amber cut him off almost immediately.

Brow furrowed, House shook his head. "An incredibly rare neurological symptom is boring? Am I in someone else's subconscious?"

Amber leaned forward, resting her palms on the desktop. "What did we do last night?"

Suddenly, two wine glasses and a bottle of sherry appeared. Amber poured House a glass and pushed it toward him. It was a clue- but for what? The blonde looked at him expectantly, watching as House stared at the glass and tried to find the hidden meaning behind it. "Was I meeting you for a drink?" he asked.

"Is that all it was?" _Taub's idea's messing with my memories…_ House was trying to reassure himself. Yet it was true; he couldn't just dismiss it because he thought it was wrong when he was sober. _Still, I wouldn't do that to Wilson… I couldn't… _Before he could argue with the dream, Amber continued, "A man thinks a woman is beautiful, admired her intelligence…" she stepped around his desk, walking toward House as she kept speaking, "admires the way she has to get whatever she wants. The things he likes about himself."

_This isn't right_, he thought. Yet he made no move to stop Amber as she started to straddle his legs and sit on his lap. "And maybe," she went on, her voice lowering and becoming more suggestive, "she always had a little thing for him."

House lowered his gaze, slowly becoming unsure of what to believe. But he immediately turned down the uncertainty. _No, that's not what happened, it's not- _"His mind, his blue eyes…" Amber's green eyes flickered, a smirk on her face as she leaned in closer to House. "But _someone_ gets between them. So they decide to meet one night at an out-of-the-way little bar…" her gaze shifts toward his lips, her own only being inches apart. "Does that sound familiar?"

Slowly, House's eyes close, feeling Amber move her head to barely nuzzle against the side of his face. The slight contact sent a shiver through him, yet his mind was screaming at him to stop. _This is wrong- how could you? How could you do that to Wilson? He'll hate you for this._ _You'll lose him! _His head tilted up as she exposed her neck to him. Yet he made no move to do anything; he just sat with his eyes closed, feeling the soft skin of her neck so close to his own skin.

"Do _I_ feel familiar?" she whispered, lowering her head so their lips were once again inches apart. He could feel her breath hitting his own lips as she kept whispering, "What do you feel?"

That was when his thoughts stopped. Even though Amber was close to him, he wasn't doing anything to her; he just sat in the chair with his eyes closed. Hell, he wasn't even touching her while she sat on his lap. His hands had stayed on the arm rests of the chair, not moving to hold her there at all. _Nothing_, his mind replied, _I feel nothing_. Still, they were so close- _so _close… Slowly, Amber moved her head again, the tip of her nose grazing over his right cheek as she moved to whisper in his ear. "Electricity."

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A jolt woke House up, knocking over his coffee mug. Was he seriously dreaming that? It couldn't have been real; he wasn't feeling anything when he was sitting with Amber- no love for her, no lust for her. He couldn't have had an affair. Yet his body had been reacting to her in the dream- it had to mean _something_.

"Electricity…" he muttered to himself. Then the idea clicked in his mind- what Amber had meant. It would help him remember the night at the bar- the truth behind what really happened. It would be risky, but it was worth a shot in helping to save her. Quickly, he got up and moved to limp toward Amber's hospital room and find Wilson and Cuddy.


	3. Chapter 2: Never Certain

**Author Note:** Hey! I'm so sorry it's been forever and a half since I posted anything for this story, but here's chapter 2. I've had a busy summer, so I deeply apologize for the lack of work on this fanfic. From now on I'll try and do my best to work on finishing the fic!  
**-------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 2: Never Certain**

"Electricity," House repeated before he limped into the ICU. Wilson turned in his seat by Amber's bed while Cuddy continued to check on Amber. Temporarily ignoring the small feeling of bitter jealousy in him, House moved to limp toward the middle of the room. "I know I saw the symptom, I know the memory is locked in my brain, now I know how to get it."

Finally, Cuddy looked up, "No."

_What?_ Brow furrowed, he argued, "You don't even know what I'm talking about."

"You need to rest. I have yet to hear any study linking electricity and rest."

Irritated, House lifted a hand to his face. That was probably their chance to save Amber's life and Cuddy was saying _no_? His hand lowered quickly and he started to pace. "Deep brain stimulation." The look on Cuddy's face was of utter disbelief. But the look on Wilson's face was of interest, so House went on, "It's been proven. Electrical impulses applied directly to the hypothalamus can evoke detailed memories."

"My mistake. Drilling a hole and shooting lightning bolts into an already cracked skull is Ivery/I restful. It's not fatal at all." Cuddy's sarcasm told him the answer to that.

Wilson shook his head, his voice sounding tired. "She's right. You need to sleep."

_No, I don't. I need to save her- I need to make you happy…_ Before he could protest, Amber's monitor began to beep. The three doctors turned their gaze to the screen. "Brain activity spiked," Cuddy muttered.

Wilson glanced at the screen before looking down at his girlfriend. The hope was evident on his face and in his voice. "Amber?" He lowered himself back into his seat so he was closer to her. "Amber? It's me."

Envy crept back into House's thoughts and to avoid rolling his eyes at the sight, he turned his gaze back to the screen. "Random spikes are common." _Shut up!_

Cuddy glared at him. "Shut up."

_Wish you said that two seconds ago. _But Wilson didn't seem to be paying attention to either of them. His head lowered toward Amber's ear to whisper words of love and comfort while his fingers gently ran through her blond locks. The grip on House's cane tightened and he had to avert his gaze. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest; usually he could handle seeing Wilson being around Amber but seeing him in that situation with her hurt. He needed to get out of there. Luckily, his pager went off and House said rather quickly, "The team has found something." Then he looked at Wilson as he gestured toward Amber, "Can you ask her if we can be excused?"

Wilson merely rolled his eyes and gave Cuddy a look before getting up to follow House. The walk to his office was silent and rather awkward- definitely not like their usual walks. Well, it was more awkward for House than it probably was for Wilson; he didn't have a clue on what House was feeling in the ICU and that thought made the pain in his heart even worse.

"What?" he asked his team, stopping in the middle of the room with Wilson right behind him. They seemed hesitant, glancing over at Wilson and remaining silent. Thirteen shifted slightly in her stance, showing obvious discomfort that didn't go unnoticed. House merely glanced back at his friend and then back at the small group, obviously showing that he didn't seem to care about letting Wilson know what was going on. He had a right to know.

"The coronary angio was negative," Foreman started.

"So was the tox screen," Taub added, still remaining seated at the table.

"That's what you found? Negative tests?" Wilson asked, looking at House. The M.D. looked back at him, unable to say anything while Wilson turned his attention on the team, "I could have told you she doesn't do drugs."

Kutner glanced at Foreman before showing House a bottle of pills. "I found these in her apartment." Once House took the bottle, he looked at the rather surprised oncologist, "Sorry. Prescription diet pills, SSRIs, amphetamines."

House looked at the pills while his team and Wilson went over the possibilities. Wilson mentioned Amber would have been an addict for it to damage her heart and he was right; there was no way those pills could have been involved in causing her current condition. _Another dead end_, House thought bitterly. _But even though this is Amber, we can't rule out the possibility- no matter how Wilson would react._ He turned to Wilson once again, holding up the bottle of pills, "Did you know she was hiding them in her vitamins?"

"We have to warm her back up," Foreman said, "get her heart beating so we can do a CT to confirm."

"No," Wilson replied before gesturing toward his friend, "We've been over this. Starting her heart could cause brain damage, could burn out the heart muscle."

Keeping his gaze on the tabletop, House said, "Test her heart without starting it. Crack her chest open. Reach a finger inside the pulmonary vein, run it across the valve."

"That's the safer course?" Foreman asked, obviously against the idea.

House's gaze lifted to meet Foreman's. _I know it's risky, but we have to do it this way… for Jimmy. _"It is if we're wrong."

His brow furrowed. "When did we start assuming we're wrong?" _We can't start up her heart; Wilson would hate me…_ House lowered his gaze for a moment while Foreman spoke again. "If this were any other patient…"

House's head snapped up, stopping Foreman from going on. "If the valve is calcified, that's our answer, that's our cure. Go." As Wilson and the team started out of the room, House waited until Thirteen was the only one in the room. "Thirteen." She stopped by the doorway, sighing softly before turning toward her boss. "Who found the diet pills?"

"Kutner," she replied simply.

"You didn't even go in the bathroom, did you?" Seeing her avert her gaze gave him the answer. "You're suddenly mute in the differentials. A blow-up doll would be more useful. And yes, that's the first time I've ever implied something negative about a blow-up doll."

She shook her head. "It's Amber. I don't-"

_I know but at least I'm doing my job. _"Normally, I'd be fascinated. Today, don't care. Get over whatever it is and do your job."

Speechless, Thirteen immediately moved to walk out of the room. With a silent sigh, House moved his hand back to his aching head. He was already going soft in the case, he didn't need anyone else following suit. Yet Foreman was right; if it had been any other patient House would have warmed up their heart regardless of the consequences. But he was playing it safe; he didn't want to lose the only friend he felt he had.

--------------------

"Liver failure means whatever this thing is, it's spreading. Despite the fact that she's frozen," Foreman reported.

Surgery had to be canceled since Amber's liver was failing. But House wasn't focused so much on that as he was on his dream earlier. He had been thinking about it for a while; why did Amber pour him a glass of sherry? What was she implying? His head throbbed painfully and he closed his eyes for a moment. It was getting to be too much, but he had to keep going. He couldn't stop now. "Does Amber drink sherry?"

He felt their eyes on him, but no answer came. Instead, they continued with the differential. His head turned so he was looking at Wilson. He was silent, rubbing at the back of his neck as he listened to the team. But House's voice interrupted them once again. "I had a dream she was pouring me a glass. And since I'm a scotch, beer, gin and rum man…"

"If we warm her back up, we should be able to tell if she's got an infection," Taub interrupted, trying to revert their attention back to the case.

"Yes we can get a diagnosis by letting the disease run rampant until it kills her." _But we're killing her by doing nothing at the same time, _House thought, giving in to thinking about the case only for that moment. No matter what protest he had, he knew he couldn't go against Wilson's wishes. His hands were tied. "If it's spreading," Wilson went on, "we need to slow this even more. We've got to cool her down further."

Silence was his reply. The team exchanged glances, all of them knowing that simply cooling her down wasn't going to solve their problem. If anything it would only limit the tests they could do on Amber even more than they were now. Taub looked up at the oncologist from his seat. "I know you love her and you're scared she's going to die. But just making her colder and colder isn't a cure. It's not dealing with the reality."

House glanced over at Wilson, seeing his head lowered to avoid breaking down. That sight tugged painfully at House's heart, but he knew Taub was right. He had to do something to make it stop; to make Wilson stop hurting so much. _He's been through enough; leave him alone…_ "Sherry means something," he muttered, pretending to have still been thinking about the dream.

Thankfully, Wilson took the opportunity of changing the subject- well for a moment, "Amber doesn't even drink sherry. House, can we get back to-"

House interrupted him. "If she did drink sherry, it would mean nothing, but since she doesn't, my subconscious is obviously trying to make some other point."

"There's a Sharrie's Bar on Third, right off the bus route," Kutner suggested. House's brow furrowed lightly, his gaze turning forward. The memory of a shot glass landing on a Sharrie's Bar coaster flashed through House's mind. _That was the bar I went to last night._

After a moment, he turned back toward his team. "Wilson's right. We need to make her colder." _We need more time._ He pushed himself up from the chair and started to limp around the table.

"Putting more ice on her is just delaying the diagnosis," Taub pointed out.

"Not on, _in_. Fill her lungs with slurry." He reached in front of Wilson to grab his coat.

"Where are you going?" Kutner asked.

"Taking Wilson out for a drink." Right away Wilson got the hint and followed House out of the room.

--------------------

The bar was just starting to open up when House and Wilson arrived. It was empty with the exception of two employees, one cleaning the tables while the other stood behind the bar stocking the shelves. House looked around the building, but no real memories were coming back to him yet.

"Is this the place?" Wilson asked.

House nodded his head slightly, "Maybe."

"Hey," the bartender's voice caught their attention. "I assume you're here for these." He opened the register and took out a set of keys, tossing them toward House. The M.D. caught them and recognized them as the keys for his motorcycle. _Yeah, this is the place…_ After exchanging glances with Wilson, he started to move toward the bar. "Did you see me here with a tall, blonde woman?"

"Yeah, I think she joined you after scotch number seven."

"Did she seem sick?"

"She sneezed. I gave her a napkin."

"Did you see the color of the sputum?" It was probably stupid to ask the bar tender, but they had to know.

He looked at them, pausing in mid-reach for a bottle or liquor to stock on the shelves. "I assume sputum means snot. Look, I see lots of drunk chicks in here. I didn't have time to stop and analyze the color of your girlfriend's boogers."

House rolled his eyes, taking that as an insult. "She's not my girlfriend, genius."

"She was hot, you seemed into her, and she bought you drinks. Last night, she was your girlfriend."

As the bartender moved to continue stocking the bottles, House lowered his gaze. He remembered walking out with Amber and having his arm slung around her shoulders. They were looking at each other and smiling… _"Maybe you met Amber in the bar?"_ Taub's voice came to his mind and he shook his head. _We didn't- I wouldn't do that to Wilson._

Which reminded him that Wilson was still there. _Great._ "Blood in her sputum," he started, hoping that would change the subject, "It could mean parasites. Any recent travel?"

"You seemed _into _her?" Wilson asked, nearly in an accusing tone.

_Seriously Wilson? If I wanted to have an affair, it would be with you not her._ He lifted his cane and pointed it at the bartender. "If he had a brain, he wouldn't be tending bar. Sneezing's a new symptom. Let's assume the runny nose means an infection."

And with that, the two were out of the bar and heading back to the hospital. By the time House walked into the lab, Taub and Foreman were doing tests on the liver. "Tell me the liver biopsy showed infiltrates, minor inflammation."

Taub and Foreman looked up from their results and back at their boss in surprise. "Yeah," Taub replied, "how-"

"Snot on a napkin. Add the heart, the infiltrates…"

"Hep B," Foreman finished.

House nodded slightly. "Start her on IV interferon. I'll go tell Wilson."

"Good idea. And I'll go nap, because I was concussed last night and had a heart attack this morning." House wasn't amused at the sarcasm in Foreman's voice. The younger doctor moved to slip past him to go talk to Wilson. "I'll go tell Wilson. You go sleep."

--------------------

Amber was the only one in the ICU when House arrived. He wasn't entirely sure why he went to visit her- then again it was another dream so it didn't necessarily matter why. Slowly, he limped to the side of her bed, looking down at her as she rested peacefully. But he knew inside whatever was causing her organs to fail was spreading. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and looked at him, making him jump in surprise.

"Hepatitis B is a lame diagnosis," she said.

After calming himself down, House rolled his eyes. "Oh God, I get less rest when I'm asleep."

Amber moved to sit up, her back to House as she moved to take off the wires attached to her forehead. "I rise from the dead and that's the reaction I get?"

"Sorry. If I had known, I would have started a breakaway Jewish sect." The sound of Velcro ripping apart drew his attention to her lower back but he still added, "Hep B fits." Amber, seeming to ignore him, held open the blue brace for him, which made him pause. "Why are you doing that?"

"Why does it matter? You like him, not me, right?" House's brow furrowed lightly before he remembered she was part of his dream, his mind. She then turned her head to speak over her shoulder. "Hep B _doesn't _fit."

--------------------

"Looks like an influenza rash," Taub said slowly, watching as House, Kutner, and Thirteen examined the rash up close.

"The flu wouldn't be killing the organs one by one," Foreman argued.

"Dermatomyositis," Kutner suggested.

House shook his head. "Wouldn't speed up her heart."

"Maybe it's an allergic reaction to the interferon?" Thirteen asked.

The M.D. rolled his eyes and spoke with sarcasm. "Yes, the symptom I saw on the bus was a rare interferon allergy that flares two days before you take it." Rolling her eyes, Thirteen stood upright and crossed her arms.

"How did you see the rash down there?" Wilson asked, astonished.

Honestly he wasn't sure. But he wasn't going to jump to the conclusion that he had an affair with her. "I don't know. Maybe she leaned over."

"Maybe it's not a rash at all," Foreman spoke up again. "Could be an abscess."

House gestured toward Amber's back. "Thirteen, stick a needle in there. If there's pus, Foreman's right."

She hesitated. "Ultrasound is safer."

"I'm not asking you to stick a needle all the way through-" he cut himself off, giving up on bothering to deal with Thirteen. "Taub, you do it."

"No. Wait, I can do it."

_I don't have time for this bullshit… _House's voice rose when he snapped at her, "No, apparently, you can't!"

Hurt by the outburst, Thirteen moved to walk out of the ICU. It was probably for the best; if she wasn't going to be doing anything to help, why should she be there? Taub took her spot and injected the needle into Amber's back. "It's not fluctuant," he muttered, slipping the syringe out carefully before holding it up. He flicked it lightly and then added, "Clear, it's not pus."

"Means it's vesicular," Foreman muttered, "Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever."

Wilson paused. "We had dinner with a friend last week. We walked their dogs. I guess she could've gotten a tick."

"It's treatable, doxycycline."

_Perfect. _"Allow eight hours for the antibiotics to take effect," House replied, "then we'll warm her up, shock her heart."

"Wait a minute." Wilson held out his hand a moment to get their attention. "If we're wrong, restarting her heart could kill her. Run blood cultures first."

Foreman's brow narrowed. "Fastest way to test is to treat. If we're wrong, still should give us time to try something else."

But Wilson wouldn't take that for an answer. "We are _not_ starting her heart until we're one hundred percent certain."

"We're never one hundred percent certain!"

Slowly, Wilson shook his head and lowered his gaze again. House followed suit, but looked down at Amber. He couldn't see his friend like that. He had to do something… "Run the blood cultures," he said, looking up at Wilson. _Please be happy…_ His gaze then shifted toward Foreman. "After we get confirmation, we'll restart her heart."

Foreman stared at House in disbelief. Was House seriously making that decision? What the hell was going through his head? He pointed a thumb back at Wilson. "He's wrong. And you know he's wrong. You can't change your mind just because a family member starts crying. They're always scared!"

The simple look from House turned into a glare. His voice was calm, yet it held a threatening tone. "I said run the blood cultures." He knew Foreman was right- he was basing his decisions on the fact that Wilson was breaking down. House wanted to try and fix him by doing whatever he said- even if they were the wrong decisions.


	4. Chapter 3: Acceptance

**Note:** I'm _so_ sorry it took me forever to update this! A bunch of stuff came up and I got really busy. But here is the next chapter of 'Shattered'. I hope you like it; there will be three more after this- the conclusion of the episode, 'Dying Changes Everything' and then I'll conclude with 'Birthmarks'. I really hope you've been enjoying this fic and I _love_ reading all of your reviews!

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**Chapter 3: Acceptance**

"Sorry, wide stance," House said to break the silence in the bathroom. Regardless of the situation at hand, he had to get Thirteen to do her job; he needed her and the team to help him save Amber. And having her crying in the stall of the woman's bathroom wasn't going to do anything significant.

There was silence and then he heard a weak voice from the other side of the stall. "You're right. I'm screwing up."

"_Why_ are you screwing up?" He didn't realize he snapped until after he spoke. _Play nice for now- you need her to help._

Either Thirteen was used to it or she didn't even notice. "I didn't even _like_ her."

"Did you hate her?"

"Not enough to want her dead."

_Good. _"So it's not guilt. That just leaves fear." He paused. "A young woman dying. A young _doctor_ dying, in fact. Sound familiar?"

The sound of footsteps wasn't what got him up first; he knew the comparison in general was going to make her leave. Reminding Thirteen that she could possibly be dying was striking a nerve- hopefully one that would get her head out of her ass. The stall door opened and the young doctor pulled back a bit in surprise when she saw House blocking her only exit. She sighed in frustration and averted her gaze from his.

"Yeah, I'm at risk for Huntington's," she forced out. "I've dealt with it."

"By not getting tested," he stated, tilting his head to the side a bit. No response. "Dealing with it by not dealing with it. It's clearly working beautifully."

"You are the _champion_ of not dealing with your problems."

"My grandson gave me a mug that says that." Of course it was sarcasm, but he just wanted Thirteen to cut her crap and do her job. "Okay, enough hand-holding. Deal with it, get back in there, or pack your stuff."

But when he looked at her, he saw anger in her gaze. It wasn't something he wasn't expecting since he usually acted like an ass, yet he thought she would just take it and move on. Instead she responded, "You're screwing up this case worse than I am." With that, Thirteen slipped past House and walked out of the bathroom. House leaned against the stall, closing his eyes and slamming a fist against the wall.

He knew she was right- he was paying more attention to Wilson's faulty judgment way more than his more logical one. Then again, House was in love with Wilson- not to mention he had been hit by a bus the night before and had a heart attack that morning. His judgment wasn't all that great, either. Still even then, he would have done what was necessary instead of pressing pause. Keeping her cold would only make her worse in the long run. She was going to die if he kept listening to Wilson. But if he didn't do as he said, House would lose his only friend. And that thought along tore at his heart.

"What do I do?" he muttered to no one before limping slowly out of the restroom.

--------------------

House woke up to the sound of yelling. It was faint but getting closer. He recognized Wilson and Cuddy's voices right off the bat; something happened with Amber. _Cuddy must have tried warming her up_, House thought, preparing himself for the bickering to get louder. Surely enough, the fight carried on right in front of his recliner. His head, which was still throbbing, was only feeling worse with each loud word. In an attempt to get them to stop, House slipped between them. The only acknowledgement he received was Wilson barely glancing at him and Cuddy leaning back slightly to give the MD space.

"Inside voices," he muttered, knowing it wouldn't help. Sitting over by his desk seemed a lot quieter than right at the recliner. But that was only because they had finally stopped yelling. Blue hues shifted up toward the two, only to catch the last of their debate. "House _wanted_ to warm her up- you just guilted him into changing his mind."

Wilson sighed and House wanted to scoff. It was sort of the truth; Wilson was the family. House should have just followed his own judgment right from the get-go. But with his friend- hell, _more_ than friend- there, he just didn't want to disappoint him. To lose him. Because losing Amber now meant that House could very well lose Wilson. Cuddy turned toward House, but the MD's gaze was on Wilson. "Heart, liver, and now her brain," the Dean stated.

"Auto-immune fits best," House started. _I'm sorry Wilson…_ He lowered his gaze to the desk before him. "Crash trauma could have set it off. Start her on prednisone, then we'll warm her up again." From where he was sitting he could feel the anger in Wilson rising again. House knew he had to do what was right now, not what Wilson wanted. Honestly, House felt torn. He avoided Wilson's gaze, yet he still felt the glare from those chocolate brown eyes burning into him.

"House," the oncologist started, sounding very strained, "if this is some other infection, the steroids will trash her immune system."

He dared a glance up at his friend, then to Cuddy. He couldn't say no and that gaze got the message to Cuddy. As she turned back toward Wilson, House looked down. _I'm sorry._ No matter how many times he would say it, he knew it wouldn't change Wilson's mind. He was angry- he had every right to be; his girlfriend was dying and he needed his best friend to save him… even though his friend's head felt like it was going to explode and he was still exhausted from ODing on the bus that morning. Before he knew it, Cuddy was walking out of the office, which made House look up. The look in Wilson's eyes shook him to his core- the oncologist was _beyond _angry. "You can't do this."

"That's not a good argument," House replied, "that's not an argument at all… I'm sorry."

Wilson tilted his head up in frustration, biting back a curse at House. Instead of speaking, he kicked at the empty chair in front of him and moved to storm out of House's office. He wanted to go after him, to try to hold him and let him know everything was going to be okay. But was it really? Whatever was wrong with Amber now spread to her brain. If it were to get worse… House didn't even want to think about it. So he started to call Taub and let him start the treatment. As he was hanging up, his brow furrowed lightly. Wilson returned, but he was a lot calmer and perhaps even nervous? His hands were clasped in front of him, his knuckles brushing lightly against his lips. He was thinking something, that wasn't hard to figure out. Slowly, House hung up the phone and waited patiently for Wilson to speak.

"Cuddy's right. I was afraid to do anything," Wilson started. "I thought if everything just stopped, it would be okay…"

A nod was the first part of his reply. At least Wilson was talking sense now- good time for that comfort. "And it's gonna be. Taub's starting the treatment, we're doing everything-"

"Not everything." _Electricity._ Before House could speak again, Wilson took a couple of steps toward his desk. "Before you warm her up… You said you wanted to try deep brain stimulation."

_Electricity_. His blood ran cold. "But there's no reason. We know the symptom, we know what I saw."

"What if it's not the rash? What if you noticed the rash in the ambulance or when we were putting her on bypass? What if there is still something else stuck inside your head?" The more Wilson pushed his argument, the more House couldn't believe his suggestion. Sure at first he was willing to go through with it, but that was because he felt like there were no other options left. Now that they had a symptom _and_ a treatment for it, what was the point of risking his life _now_? Except, there _was_ a point, and he was standing right in front of him, suggesting he do this reckless stunt. Which meant this: Wilson loved Amber more than he cared about House. That realization struck House harder than that bus, crushed at his heart more than anything.

"You think I should risk my life… to save Amber's?" he wanted to be clear. Was this really what Wilson wanted? To risk the chance of losing not only his girlfriend, but his best friend? If that was the case, House wondered if he and Wilson were even best friends to begin with… The nod from the oncologist only hurt the MD even more. This was crazy- this whole thing. To have House give up his life to save Amber, the woman he so envied, just to make Wilson happy? House lowered his gaze. Wilson wasn't thinking straight- he was so scared of losing Amber he wasn't making rational decisions. But House was so scared of losing Wilson he wasn't making rational decisions either; he would be a hypocrite if he said no. Not to mention the chance of ruining whatever was left of the friendship he had with Wilson. If it even _was _a friendship at that point. He would rather have _something _from Wilson rather than nothing. That is, if he were to live through the brain stimulation. He let out a soft chuckle and then looked up at Wilson, giving him a nod. He was going to do it.

--------------------

He wouldn't admit it openly, but House was scared. He didn't want to die; not like this. Sitting in that chair with those bolts and a needle going in his head. Hell, he didn't want to have Wilson see him die- if he still cared, anyway. House was doing this for him- to make him happy. Would he still be happy if Amber lived and House died? Blue hues shifted toward Wilson. _I need you…_ if the fear wasn't evident, the worry was. But there were no words of comfort; just a nod from the oncologist and then he walked out of eyesight. House was alone.

"I'm inserting the IPG probe into your ventral hypothalamus," Chase announced as he did what he told House. Once the needle was in place, Chase glanced over at Wilson who now stood by the machine. "Give me three volts." Wilson turned the knob on the machine and then pushed the button.

_A rush of electricity flooded through House's mind and a flash of light brought him back to the bar. Everything was in black and white, but he knew he was back at Sherry's talking to the bartender. There was no sound coming from the bartender's mouth- there was no sound at all. Just silence._

"I can't hear him," he stated.

"Can't hear who?" Wilson asked.

"Everything's in black and white," House replied, his eyes shifting around as he looked at the bar.

"Who was talking? Is Amber there?"

_This isn't going to work._ His eyes shifted upward to talk to Chase. "You're supposed to be jolting my hypothalamus, not petting it."

Rolling his eyes, Chase shook his head. "We don't want to overload it."

"As long as I'm risking my life, I might as well be watching a talkie." That came out more bitter than he intended. Though Wilson took it as a go-ahead and looked at Chase. The youngest doctor shrugged and averted his gaze.

"Increasing from three to five volts," Wilson spoke, turning the knob once again. He looked at House. "Sending impulse." The MD tensed up and grimaced as a higher rush of volts coursed through his brain. They were really pushing it now.

_The keys were ripped out of his hands. The bartender practically glared at him before lifting the keys and jingling them in front of House's face. "You're not getting them back,"_ _he said, moving to walk away from the drunken doctor. House merely sighed and shook his head. At least he had Wilson to call. He flipped open his cell phone only to find that the battery was dead. Rolling his eyes, he looked toward the idiot tending the bar. "Hey! You take my keys, you gotta give me a phone call." He outstretched his arm, swaying on his stool from the simple motion. Yeah, he definitely wouldn't have made it home on his motorcycle. Seeing the reason behind House's statement, the bartender handed over the phone. House started to dial Wilson's number and then put the phone to his ear._

"Who're you calling?"

_House looked to his right to find Wilson standing on the bar. He was still in his scrubs even though everyone else was in their normal clothes. The crippled doctor looked at the caller id on the phone and then showed it to Wilson. _"Dial-a-Wilson."

"I was on call."

His brow furrowed. "I-" he stuttered, finding nothing to say. What was there _to_ say? House screwed up- big time.

Wilson's gave averted from House. "Amber was home."

_This __**is**__ my fault…_ "I told her to find you," his voice was quiet, "have you pick me up." He took a breath and then closed his eyes.

_Before he knew it, Amber was at his side at the bar. House rolled his eyes, letting his arm fall against the bar. "I said to find Wilson," he said rather loudly._

"_He's working," she replied, "And I'm willing to suffer this indignity on his behalf." House lowered his gaze._

"Does she seem sick?"

_He looked up at Amber once again at the sound of Wilson's voice. Nothing seemed to be wrong with her… yet. He shook his head. _"Not yet."

"_Come on, time to go," the blonde said, taking House's arm and trying to get him up off of the stool._

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa," he muttered and then called to the bartender, "Need another round and a drink for… what passes for a lady around here." His gaze returned to Amber, who looked anything but pleased. "What's your poison?"_

"_Nothing." she turned toward the bartender. "We're leaving."_

"_We're leaving, leaving, leaving, leaving…" he taunted before saying, "Cosmos." Amber rolled her eyes in irritation. "I saw Wilson buying cranberry juice." He rolled his eyes as well. "I'll have another and she'll have a Cosmopolitan."_

"_The obstinate drunk thing is not flattering. Come on, you called for a ride."_

_The drinks were set down in front of them. He looked at Amber once more. "Drink your drink, or I'll drink them both."_

_She shook her head and reluctantly grabbed her glass. "One, and you leave voluntarily." After clanking their glasses together in a silent toast, House and Amber drank the alcohol in both of their glasses. Amber's brow rose expectantly but House didn't budge from his seat on the stool. "Let's go."_

"_Need another Cosmo here!" he called to the bartender. A sneeze caught his attention. House looked over as Amber was leaned forward, her hand over her nose and mouth. _

"She sneezed," House muttered.

"What color is it?" Wilson asked.

_Amber muttered a 'thank you' to the tender before she wiped her nose on a napkin. Deep blue hues watched her closely, and then looked down at the napkin. Almost sounding disappointed, House replied, _"Looks like snot. Seems like a cold."

"Nothing else?"

_There's got to be something else…_ House's voice came out in a whisper, his eyes almost looking hazy as his mind still stayed in the bar. "No."

_Finally, House tried to get up. But once he was on his feet, he stumbled into someone's back. Blowing off the incident and the glares from the table, House started to limp for the door._

"Where are you going?"

"_Do you think I paid?"_

_Without warning, he felt his arm being lifted up. His gaze turned toward Amber as she made herself into a human crutch for House. "House, what are you doing? You can barely walk." They got to the door by the time House came up with a response. "Go home. I'll take the bus."_

"_Hey, someone's gotta pay for this!" the bartender called. The blonde glanced over their shoulders and then looked at House. Reluctantly, she let the drunken doctor go and returned to the bar. However, House kept going and managed to get on the bus. It was crowded, but he didn't care. As long as he got home he would be fine. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of red and orange flames. His cane was being held in front of him. He looked up to find Amber standing in the aisle. "You forgot something," she said, handing him the cane._

_Setting it down to rest against his leg, House said, "Boy, you never give up, do you?"_

_Amber sat in the seat across the aisle. "Yeah, I'm an idiot like that."_

_A lazy smile appeared on the MD's features. "You doing this for me, or for Wilson?"_

"_For Wilson."_

_He nodded lightly. "Well then, it's even more impressive." He then lifted his hand in a toast, "Salut."_

_Once again, Amber sneezed. With a groan, she kept her hand over her nose and mouth. "Ugh damn, do you have a Kleenex?"_

"_I got a sleeve," House offered, looking down at his hands, "I got two, actually."_

"_I'm gonna need more than that," she replied, shuffling through her purse. "I'm getting that nasty flu." House's brow furrowed and he slowly turned so he was facing Amber more. He caught the sight of Wilson in his sky blue scrubs out of the corner of his eye, but he still stayed focused on Amber._

"Is that it? The flu? Is there any rare complication?" the oncologist asked.

"No. It'll explain the rash, but nothing else." _He paused, his gaze lowering toward Amber's hands. The wheels started to turn in House's head and his eyes widened. _"Unless…" _No…_

"What?"

_He ignored Wilson for the time being, watching Amber very carefully. She withdrew a pill bottle from her purse. Everything in House froze. He leaned back, finally putting two and two together. His gaze shifted toward Amber's face. If she took those pills, it would explain __**everything**__. Though there was a catch… She dumped two pills into her palm as House watched on in dread. "Don't do it," he whispered. But it was too late; the pills were already being swallowed. Defeated, House's shoulders slumped as he looked at Amber that asked only one question: __**Why?**_

"It wasn't the flu," _House mumbled quietly, his eyes to the floor of the bus. _"It's what she did for it. She has Amantadine poisoning." _This is all my fault. My…_

"The crash destroyed her kidneys," Wilson started, "her body couldn't filter the drugs, she ODs on Amantadine, explains the heart, the liver…" House closed his eyes. As Wilson explained what they should do, he was slowly accepting his losses. Amber was far gone now; the Amantadine was going to kill her no matter what they did. And by losing Amber, that meant Wilson was going to go, too. And it was all House's fault. Maybe if he had called someone else, maybe if he had just gotten drunk at home… but no. Amber was on that bus with him whether he liked it or not and there was absolutely nothing they could do to save her.

_She was dead when her heart stopped in the ambulance. I already lost Wilson in that ambulance._

_Finally, House worked up the courage to look up at Wilson. The look in his eyes was grave and held sadness in them that Wilson caught immediately. _"What? What is it?"

_I can't do this… He lowered his gaze again, finding it easier to explain to Wilson that way rather than looking at him. _"Amantadine binds with proteins. Dialysis can't clear it out of the blood." _I'm so sorry… please don't leave._ "There's nothing we can do." _I didn't mean for this to happen… _"I'm _so_ sorry."

_Wilson's gaze had been on Amber the whole time. It was starting to sink in for Wilson at that moment. House didn't want to be the one to break the news, but there was no one else to do it. He felt completely crushed; his heart aching with each beat it made. _"Amber…" _Wilson whispered._

A tear fell down the side of House's face while he sat in silence. He knew he had to accept this- accept the fact that Wilson was gone. But he couldn't bring himself to do it; Wilson was his only friend, his love. And to have that taken away because of a mistake he made- it was too much. He already lost the chance to tell Wilson his feelings because Amber came between them, and now this… _I don't want this._

"Amber…" _Her head turned to look at House, the lights of the garbage truck shining behind her and only getting brighter…_

"He's seizing!" Chase exclaimed, watching as House started shaking violently in front of him. "Wilson, I need help here!"


End file.
